


Duality

by andIwillwrite500more (prototyping)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Azure Moon route but she lives, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Makeup Sex, Post-Canon, Prompt Fill, Romance, canon AU, fix-it??, smut with feelings, these two are broken please let them help each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:42:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24187588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/andIwillwrite500more
Summary: She was both his childhood friend and his political enemy; she was someone he wanted so badly to sit down andtalkwith like the old friends they were, and yet at times he could barely stand to look at her with the screams of the dead in his ears and five years of misery haunting his memories.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 53
Kudos: 253





	Duality

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a [prompt](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=211932#cmt211932) on the FE3H kink meme! I don’t know the definition of PWP or even “short” so this grew into a long thing and I’m sorry for the tl;dr, OP. Hopefully the overabundance of angst and emotional conflict makes it up to you.

It wasn’t so simple.

Years of single-minded obsession and all-consuming hatred couldn’t be forgotten so quickly, if ever, and it was a twisted mess of love and lingering bitterness that filled Dimitri’s chest like smoke every time he looked at her－just as it had been for over five years now.

The only difference between now and six months ago was that the _love_ half was stronger.

He wondered whether she felt the same, or if the ashes of her crumbling empire had coated her heart like armor－preserving what gratitude and affection she still had for the boy she once knew, but shielding her against the man who had taken everything from her.

If his feelings were smoke, he supposed the _maybes_ and _what could have beens_ of their past were the dying embers.

Upon his order, Dimitri was the only one who approached her besides the chambermaids. He didn’t believe she would harm anyone－or maybe he just didn’t _want_ to believe it－but the ugly truth was that he didn’t know anymore.

He didn’t know _her_ anymore.

So it was that he made the journey to her remote tower room again tonight, dismissing the handful of stationed guards as he passed them. It was another stroke of naivete that his councilors and confidants didn’t hesitate to criticize, but Dimitri refused to budge on the matter. On the small chance she wanted to talk to him, he would give her that opportunity with privacy and confidence.

Her space had been weapon-proofed, besides. Unless she could get her hands around his throat or her pillow over his face, he was more liable to trip and break his neck on the stairs than be caught so foolishly unaware.

But probabilities aside, Dimitri was confident in the belief that she wouldn’t run. She had nowhere to go, no chance of finding her way back onto her envisioned path even if she did escape, and no reason to take his life for any reason other than pettiness, which he believed her to be above.

Truthfully, weapon-proofing her room hadn’t only been for his own safety.

He knocked twice as he always did, announcing his presence and giving her the chance to object. He unlocked the door and opened it to her permissive silence.

Confinement hadn’t been cruel to Edelgard, but despite his leniency and intentions, it hadn’t been particularly kind, either. She looked thinner despite being well fed, the skin around her eyes and mouth drawn tighter than Dimitri remembered. Perhaps that had happened before her captivity.

The air around her was quiet. She blended in with the room as effortlessly as she used to always stand out in one.

She had been given a true room as opposed to a cell; she wasn’t lacking for comfort, and if not for the lock on the door her quarters wouldn’t normally have been called a prison. She was sitting on her bed with an open book in hand and only raised her head once he’d shut the door behind him, her usual neutral mask in place.

Just the sight of her did something to him, jostling the latch that he usually kept fastened tight over his complicated feelings. His pulse sped up, his head buzzed. Old voices howled their disapproval.

“Edelgard.” His tone was kind but he had long since dropped any pretense of propriety. Formal greetings felt forced, casual greetings sounded fake. He had also returned to using her full name ever since their final battle; the scar in his shoulder was, as far as he was concerned, her blunt refusal of that offer of intimacy.

“Dimitri.” Her tone mimicked his but for the warmth. It wasn’t cold, either, but the indifference in it was almost worse.

He glanced at the fireplace in the corner. “I trust you’re keeping warm?” _I know you hate this time of year in Faerghus_ , he almost added.

“I am.” Her responses were always direct, to the point. She rarely said anything more than necessary.

Dimitri moved further in to place the tray of food on the table, and then turned to her fully. From his tunic pocket he produced a small parcel and held it up for her to see before also setting it down. “I thought you might be bored of reading by now. A friend of yours mentioned that you enjoy drawing.” A hobby she must have picked up after the time they spent together. Or maybe she had never shared it with him, for one reason or another.

One thin eyebrow arched gracefully over her skeptical stare. “I can’t imagine it was easy convincing your council to give me access to a sharp object.”

He gave her a half-smile. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

The stillness of her expression said she was hiding a look of surprise. “No,” she agreed, “it would only hurt you.”

“Would it?”

For a moment they regarded each other in silence. Edelgard was the one to look away. “You’re too soft.”

“So you’ve told me.”

The thin line of her mouth crept toward a frown. “Tell me honestly. Do you truly believe the leader of Fodlan can afford to be swayed so easily by his－”

“I didn’t come to talk of politics, Edelgard.” He didn’t often interrupt people, but this was a cycle he had no desire to become caught up in repeating. He didn’t hide the spike of impatience in his tired voice.

“Then there isn’t anything worth saying,” she countered coolly.

“And whose fault is that?”

He clenched his fists at his sides, biting back the edge that slipped into his words. Edelgard could get to him like few people could, and more than once he’d wondered if she did so intentionally. Did she hate him that badly? Did she refute his kindness as pity, or some sort of backhanded scheme? Was she truly so intent on being unreachable?

Dimitri could ask her these questions all day but he already knew he’d receive no answers. Her stubbornness was as admirable as it was infuriating; she could certainly not be called a coward, but her lack of self-regard was foolish, and that got under his skin more than anything. Why did she think so little of herself that she would push his patience? Did she really have nothing to lose at this point? Was she resigned to wasting away in here for the sake of pride?

More questions, more answers she wouldn’t give.

Edelgard dropped her gaze with a short, hard sigh. “That is your biggest flaw, Dimitri, and why you and I will never see eye-to-eye.” For an instant there was something solemn in her voice, but it quickly hardened. “You’re content to charge into situations with nothing but your blind optimism as your guide and crutch. You gamble on your feelings and you think sentiment is enough to justify your mistakes.”

“Are you talking about politics,” he asked gruffly, “or you and I?”

“Both,” she answered without hesitation.

“Then tell me, Edelgard－what would it take to see eye-to-eye with you? Refusing to be swayed by anything other than cold, hard logic? Counting people as numbers rather than lives?”

She snorted softly. “That you would even ask is just further indication of how much more growing you need to do.”

She wasn’t the first to say as much and Dimitri doubted she would be the last. He knew his flaws, but he also knew hers. “That is easy for those of us at the top to say,” he shot back. His tone was level again, but firm. “Would you so confidently speak of sacrifice if you were among those deemed unnecessary? If your loved ones were?”

The glare she sent him was ice cold and withering. It was the most emotion she’d shown in months. “I would, and I do.” Her voice matched her eyes and was that of the Adrestian Emperor, not Edelgard, and certainly not his El. Dimitri had clearly touched on something personal.

“Then talk to me,” he urged, “please. Explain yourself. Help me to understand－”

“If you don’t understand how the world works by now, nothing I say will change your mind. Justice has always required sacrifice and it always will, whether it be on behalf of the leaders or the people－”

“Then change it,” Dimitri snapped. “As hellbent as you were on changing everything else in the world, who’s to say your vision was bound only to bloodshed?”

He needed to stop there and he knew it. His voice was rising, his anger simmering, and he was bound to say something he regretted at best, or that pushed her away even further at the worst.

But this was Edelgard and something, _everything_ about her impaired his ability to think straight. His respect for her was a paradox－understanding her way of thinking but condemning her methods－and so was his torrent of feelings. She was both his childhood friend and his political enemy; she was someone he wanted so badly to sit down and _talk_ with like the old friends they were, and yet at times he could barely stand to look at her with the screams of the dead in his ears and five years of misery haunting his memories.

Even if she hadn’t been responsible for the Tragedy, she had conspired with those who were, and permitted too many wartime atrocities in her name. No matter how long and deep his love for her continued to run, Dimitri was convinced that was something he could never understand, nor fully forgive.

The two of them were even in that regard.

Edelgard huffed a small, humorless laugh. “You really do think me heartless, don’t you? Do you think I wanted to walk such a bloody path? That I didn’t exhaust every other option before making my choice?”

“You’ve always had a choice.” The reply was almost a growl. He wasn’t backing down on this point, at the very least. “And every step of the way you chose your own beliefs above all else. You assumed you knew better, that you had the right to tell other people what to believe.” He shook his head. “You are not heartless, but I can think of few things more corrupt, regardless of your intentions.”

Without warning Edelgard was on her feet. Old habits made Dimitri tense in response, and her gaze lingered on him long enough to say she’d noticed before she turned away. He watched her stride across the room and tuck her book away on the shelf－and then he watched her stand there for a long moment, his gaze tracing her figure.

Her hands and feet were bare but her simple red dress fell nearly to her ankles, her sleeves stretched to her wrists, and her collar covered her throat. Even when her room was uncomfortably warm, she concealed as much of her skin as possible. Perhaps she was more modest than he would have thought, or maybe she felt too exposed around him.

“History,” she said finally, calmly, “has always reflected the beliefs of those who wrote it down fast enough.” Her fingers ran lightly along the line of volumes before she turned back to him. “You speak of objectivity, but you have your own bias, as well. Your legacy will do the same, in the end.”

He frowned. “What would I－”

“How will your grandchildren perceive the fallen nation of Duscur?” she pressed. “Will it be remembered as a tragic example of injustice and miscommunication, or forever damned as a population of traitors who received their proper comeuppance?”

“I… I _will_ prove them innocent. I just need more time to－”

“And if you run out of time? If you die before that happens?” Edelgard faced him fully now. “Would you leave that mystery in the hands of the populace－the prejudiced masses who are already comfortable in their hateful beliefs? Or would you dictate that chapter of the history books yourself, to ensure moral impartiality?”

Dimitri said nothing.

“These are the kinds of decisions that leaders have always had to make.” There was nothing smug in her countenance, not even anything arrogant. She simply sounded matter-of-fact and earnest. “In your case, this will be one of the easier ones. And for your sake, I hope the rest aren’t too difficult.”

There was a hint of something soft in her eyes for an instant, but then it iced over once more.

“So I suggest you wear that crown a few years longer before you attempt to educate me on _your_ definition of corruption.”

Her hard stare relented and she moved toward the fireplace, apparently unbothered by the need to pass by him so closely that their arms almost brushed.

At the last second Dimitri’s arm shot out to block her. Edelgard stopped half a second too late to keep from walking into it, but she only looked up at him calmly, as unfettered as she was curious, her eyes roaming quickly over his face as she tried to read it.

He wasn’t sure what expression he was wearing right then, but if it reflected his feelings, it would be a dark one.

“If that’s how you think－no, if that’s the standard you’ve built yourself up to meet for all these years－why abandon it now?”

“Abandon?” she echoed sharply. “I haven’t－”

“If you believe so wholeheartedly in your view of the world, why not live to help it in what ways you still can? Why do you－” He winced. His firm voice wavered. “Why do you push me away and choose isolation? If you would instead stand beside me－”

“And watch the world continue down the same path it always has?” Her eyes seemed to search his. “We both know our ideals can’t coexist. Whether my words fall on your deaf ears within this room or outside of it, they fall on deaf ears regardless. At least when I’m in here, your people can rest easy knowing their king doesn’t keep an enemy on his arm.”

Dimitri moved before he realized it, grasping her shoulders and turning her towards him. He felt her tense beneath his hands, but her face remained impassive.

“If you’re still an enemy, it’s only because you choose to be,” he insisted. “We both want what’s best for Fodlan. Why do you insist on seeing this only in black and white?”

“Because I grew out of your foolish optimism long ago!” Edelgard’s voice rose. “You only see people as good and evil, actions as right and wrong. _You_ are the one who sees in black and white, Dimitri－even though you’ve suffered the same losses I have, you’ve always clung to the past while I prepared for the future.”

A sharp, bitter sneer escaped him, as did his retort before he could stop it: “Better to cut the past away than to have one that slows you down, yes? No matter the cost.”

There wasn’t an ounce of conflict or hesitation in her reply. “You can’t look backward and forward at the same time. I thought you of all people learned that the hard way.”

Anger burned in his throat, behind his eyes, in his blood. He had to remind himself not to grip any harder or risk breaking her arms.

“I’m looking forward now,” he replied, very quietly.

“No. You look at me and you see what you _want_ me to be. Who you think I could have been.”

That much was true. Even at his lowest point, he could never think of her and _not_ remember the girl who taught him to dance－and even now the contrast ate at him. Sentimentality had always been one of his biggest flaws, and perhaps that was no more obvious than in the sad fact that his childish affection had persisted for so long－that he loved her now just as he had then, if not more with the emotion having deepened to something more mature and aware compared to his limited understanding as a boy.

That very sentiment was what made her stubborn rejection hurt all the more.

“And who am I to you?” Dimitri could barely hear himself over the roar in his head. His pain and anger fed the voices like kindling; he was vaguely aware that his hands were trembling. “Just another choice you made?”

Edelgard actually hesitated. Her eyes fell to his chest.

_“Edelgard.”_

“No.” She raised her head again but her eyes avoided his, instead looking at his forehead, his nose, his chin. “I was never given a choice when it came to you. And that remains one of my only regrets.”

A glimmer of cautious hope coiled tight in his chest. “You have a choice now.”

For a couple rapid heartbeats the look in her eyes betrayed the same tentative longing. His heart was in his throat.

Her answer was short, simple, but it said so much.

Too much.

“I already made it.”

Something in Dimitri snapped.

He pulled her flush against him, hard enough to hear the breath knocked from her lungs right before he crushed his mouth against hers.

It was brief, clumsy, and wet, and ended with Edelgard tearing away and slapping him hard across the face.

For a moment they simply stared at one another, breathing hard, their faces equally unreadable.

Then she reached up to seize his ponytail and yank him back down for another, harder kiss, open-mouthed and eager. He was stunned only briefly, and then his arms were around her as he kissed her with the same aggressive fervor.

He didn’t know her reasons and for the moment he didn’t care. She was warm despite her rigid posture, the kiss satisfying despite how foreign and new it felt, and those sensations were all that mattered to the blood pounding feverishly through his veins. For now he _had_ her, their conflicting fates be damned.

Her touch was rough as she ran her hands over his shoulders, his chest. The heat of her palms was faint through his layers of clothes and it wasn’t _enough_ —he wanted to be closer, as close as he could get. His hands tightened on her sides until she grunted in discomfort, but she only pressed closer and didn’t stop kissing him.

When she stepped back, he followed, and when she leaned into the table he pinned her against it with his hips hard enough to make the serving tray rattle. Both of them gasped at the friction but only kissed harder, hungrier.

Again the tray rattled. Before that could occur to Dimitri as strange, a flash of silver to his left caught his eye and he moved on engrained reflex: he shoved Edelgard backwards, none too gently, off her feet and onto the table as he pinned her wrist beside her head. He eyed the fork in her fingers with disdain.

“Are you trying to make a point, or do you honestly want me to kill you?” The question was a guttural, threatening snarl that he hadn’t used in a long time. He was more hurt than angry, but this was Edelgard. Anger came so much more naturally to him when it was her in question.

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Does anyone else bring out this side of you so easily?”

The question snaked down his spine and pooled between his hips as heat. He didn’t know if she’d meant to have that teasing note in her voice, or if he was misreading it entirely, but to look his darkness in the face like she was doing, to almost _welcome_ it with that arrogant smile, made her seem all the more unshakeable－and, in his eyes, desirable.

“You’re the only one,” he admitted, dismissive, as he turned his eye to her fist. He pressed his thumb against her pulse and found it thundering. “Drop it,” he grunted.

He read the defiance in her face before she voiced it, and this time he knew he wasn’t imagining things－not the dark glimmer in her gaze, nor the small, impatient roll of her hips against his.

“Or what?”

He pushed harder and watched pain ripple over her face. Still she held on, so he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and squeezed－minding his strength so that he wouldn’t crush it, but easily striking her hand numb so that the fork finally slipped from her grasp. Her pained hiss was swallowed by his mouth on hers as he kissed her again.

Despite her annoyed grunt, Edelgard did anything but resist. Again she buried her hands in his hair, arching up against him as she kissed and bit his lips with angry enthusiasm. She was so small beneath his bulk that Dimitri had to constantly shift to run his hands down her sides, her thighs, the soft silk of her dress increasingly frustrating as it refused to yield any of the skin beneath.

He didn’t realize he was rutting against her－hard enough to make the table shudder and knock against the floor－until she moaned sharply and pushed her hips up against his, surprisingly strong, and spread her legs as much as her gown would allow. With the both of them working at each other it wasn’t long before he was completely hard. Her hands popped the buttons off his overcoat as she tore it open.

He withdrew to stand and shrug it off, and it was while his arms were preoccupied with his sleeves behind his back that Edelgard caught him off guard again: she kicked him in the stomach, forcefully enough to send him back a couple steps. He was still winded when she slipped onto her feet and threw herself into him, her fists in his shirt guiding him as he was knocked backwards. His knees hit the bed and bent.

He landed on his back with her on top of him, her small form straddling his waist. A hard tug of his hair forced his head back and left his throat uncomfortably vulnerable, but not before he noticed that she’d hitched her dress up her thighs to let her sit astride him so.

Perhaps she would smother him with her pillow, after all.

“Is this all it takes to bring the King of Faerghus to his knees?” She sounded genuinely disappointed, her reprimand sharp and criticizing despite her heavy panting.

He didn’t respond, but gritted his teeth as she slid backwards to catch his erection between her thighs. When he tried to push up against her, she set her palm on his stomach and moved onto her knees to break the contact. Displeasure grumbled low in his throat. His temper flared twice as high, irritated at how responsive he was.

Of course, she also noticed. Again she lowered herself into his lap; again she withdrew when he tried to grind against her.

“Will you also beg, I wonder?” she mused.

Dimitri twisted his hips, trying to dislodge her, but the grip in his hair and his shirt was unyielding. 

She leaned down across his chest. Pressed a slow, gentle kiss to his exposed throat, and then another higher up, another, until she was hovering over his mouth. How like her to flaunt her power over him.

“Do you know why I think you weak, Dimitri? It’s because if I killed you right now, you still wouldn’t regret trusting me.”

He didn’t deny it. There was no point.

Instead he ground out, “But you won’t.”

She would have done it by now, otherwise.

He watched, fiercely satisfied, as her eyes flashed. “If you－”

Edelgard had always hated being interrupted when they were children, and detested being ignored. That was why he chose right then to pull his arms free with a _snap_ of his sleeves ripping, and then flipped the two of them over to shut her up with another kiss.

She clung to him as determinedly as she’d pushed him away moments ago. His hands roamed her bare legs and up the sides of her dress, barely noticing the web of thin scars there. On the way back his fingers dipped between her thighs to return her earlier favor with a brief, hard stroke against her damp underwear that made her whole body shudder, but she only bit his lip and refused to ask for it when he didn’t repeat the motion.

Together they pulled both of his shirts over his head. Her hands burned on his skin as they explored his shoulders and back, at times skirting down his spine and at others pressing hard enough to leave bruises. Desperate to taste more than her mouth, Dimitri hooked his fingers in her dress collar and tugged－and accidentally tore it halfway down her arm. Her skeptical snort melted into a hum as his lips attacked her throat: kissing, sucking, and then biting down on her shoulder until she groaned.

The ache between his hips was beyond what rubbing against her could still satisfy. He tore her underwear away with the same clumsy ease and his fingers found her soft and wet－and _very_ sensitive, judging by the way she writhed beneath him and cursed under her breath.

Dimitri’s breath hitched as she yanked his hair again, pulling his head back to see his face. Her gaze was hard despite how dilated her pupils were with desire, her tone rigid enough to match.

“Look me in the eye when you touch me,” she all but spat. She was as beautiful as she was infuriating, giving orders even now. Anger and lust pounded through him like fire and when his hand wrapped impulsively around her throat, for an instant even he wasn’t sure which would win out.

Then he dug his thumb into her chin to force her head back and crashed his mouth into hers. His good eye remained locked on her face as he ravaged her with lips and tongue, then teeth, obeying her command in the pettiest of ways.

She met him halfway. She bit his lip hard, harder, until he was sure he’d taste blood if he could taste at all, but he refused to wince. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, deep and forceful as if to choke him, and his hand returned to work more forcefully between her legs until she was thrusting against it and gasping.

She reached down between them and caught his wrist, guiding his fingers further back. “Here,” she hissed, and he felt where her folds of skin gave way.

He stopped there, watching as her dazed eyes found his face and glared impatiently. He pressed a smile against her parted, kiss-swollen lips.

“That desperate look is captivating on you, Edelgard,” he growled, his voice thick and rough. “I was right to long for it.” He teased her with gentle brushes, the very tip of his finger, until he swore he could see fresh sweat breaking out on her flushed forehead. “Would _you_ beg, I wonder?”

The anger in her eyes nearly got him off then and there. That deep, dark, hidden part of him howled with sadistic glee, with a lust different from that which had once demanded her head but lust all the same. It was content to dominate her in any way at this point, and watching her squirm and hate him for it was simply _arousing_.

But of course she wouldn’t beg. Not Edelgard. Not for her life, not for this. Dimitri knew she’d sooner turn him away and let her own lust burn out on its own.

He waited for her to regain most of her composure, and then he broke it again by pushing his finger into her, down to the knuckle.

She threw her head back with lips pressed tight against the shout in her throat. He moved inside her, rubbing and curling, and she trembled with a high-pitched whine as her hips bucked.

As lovely as that was, he could only stand to give her a few thrusts before his pulsing erection twitched painfully. Edelgard cursed again when his hand withdrew, but as he leaned back to unbutton his pants, her hands were already there to reach inside and help pull him out.

He wasn’t gentle. Once he’d lined himself up with where she was wettest, he dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her sharply towards him as he thrust forward, filling her completely in one hard, swift, and merciless motion.

Her nails raked across his shoulders as she bit back a pained snarl. Guilt and satisfaction, concern and selfish disregard warred inside him, even as he gasped and moaned at how hot and tight and _good_ she felt around him.

She recovered before he did, fixing him with yet another patronizing look. “Move,” she huffed, “or must I teach you everything?”

If she was trying to throw more sparks on his temper, it worked. He took her hard and fast, and she didn’t once tell him to stop despite the clear discomfort on her face, in her voice. Before long she had smacked his hands away to move with him on her own, somehow finding a rhythm with his aggressive motions that made them both groan and ache that much harder for release.

When Dimitri set his forehead against hers, Edelgard’s distant eyes refocused as she looked at him. Right then there was nothing angry or defensive or judgmental in her lilac gaze－she simply _looked_ at him, unguarded and accepting. Just as she’d once done and just as he used to hope she would again.

Just as he _still_ hoped she would.

_“El－”_ he moaned, and it was more than simple, base desire that broke his voice. He saw her eyes widen, clarity sweeping over her features, but then his body tensed as a split-second of numbness replaced the mounting pleasure between his hips. Startled back into the present, he jerked backwards and pulled out of her, and not a second too soon: he shook as he climaxed, her nickname falling again from his lips, this time almost in defeat.

When he raised his head again, he found her watching him with the same stunned look on her reddened face. Was she really so surprised that he’d brought the past into this? Had she thought this－ _any_ of this－to be about anything else?

In those few seconds, his anger fizzled out completely. His own slip-up had stripped it away like a bandage, exposing the old wounds of their past for them both to see. There was nothing left for him to deny, and judging by her silence, she knew it, too.

Dimitri was suddenly tired, and in a way that had nothing to do with his body’s exertion. He felt heavy with shame and guilt, grief and disgust at his own thoughtless, selfish desperation.

He dropped his heavy head against her chest. It was a long moment before he spoke again.

“I don’t… want this, El,” he whispered. He shook his head slightly, rocking against her. “Not like this.”

Unsurprisingly, she stayed silent.

After a moment more he moved off of her, away from her, to sit on the edge of the bed.

He’d had such high hopes before. Against all odds, the two of them had both come out of the battle for Enbarr alive and he’d foolishly believed _that_ to be the hard part. Now, months later, they were no closer to reconciling their differences.

They could sooner fuck each other senseless than take that first step back towards what they used to be.

Goddess, what was he _doing?_

The bed creaked and Edelgard joined him. Her dress was bunched around her knees and hanging off her shoulder, her hair was a mess and her fair skin covered in bites and bruises, but she kept her shoulders straight and held her head high as she always did, always had.

“Why did you stop calling me El until now?” she asked.

Dimitri looked at her, surprised by the question as well as her gentle tone. “When you… returned the dagger, I assumed I might as well. If you wanted to push me away, I would not force you to do otherwise.”

Her eyes flickered briefly to his left shoulder, then away towards the opposite wall as she gave a small, tired chuckle. “You always were terrible at picking up hints.”

“What?”

She shook her head lightly. “I think I understand a little better now. Why my words don’t seem to get through that thick skull of yours.” The corner of her mouth twitched towards a smile, briefly. “You probably think I’ve done nothing but hate and judge you ever since I came here.”

“...You’ve given me little reason to suspect otherwise, yes.”

Edelgard sighed. “I don’t hate you.” She paused. “But it is… frustrating, watching your naivete get the best of you.” She noticed his expression and frowned. “That isn’t an insult. You can’t deny that you weren’t totally prepared to step into your position when you did.”

“No. I can’t.”

“I don’t criticize you to be cruel, Dimitri. Perhaps your councilors are content to be soft with you, but I’m painfully aware that there are limits to what one person can do. Especially when that person has a lifetime of difficult work ahead of him.”

He stared at her, but she didn’t meet his eye. “If your intention is to be helpful, then why don’t you－”

“There it is again.” Now she did look at him, her expression stern, but not unkind. “It isn’t wrong to think with your heart, but you can’t do so in every situation. Deep down, you know as well as I do that I have no future in the public eye.”

Something inside him twisted at her words, likely because he already knew them to be true. In a perfect world, the two of them would find some common ground and work towards it together, making the best of the country in what ways they could. Realistically…

Realistically, Edelgard would never be anything to most people but the coldhearted, murderous Emperor of a treacherous nation. She would never be trusted, and if it became known that she had Dimitri’s ear to _any_ extent…

The touch of her hand on his thigh startled him out of those thoughts.

“I made my choice,” she told him coolly. “No one can change it now. Not me, and certainly not you.” Her expression softened. “So please… stop trying, my friend. Be satisfied with what you have.”

_Be satisfied with having won._

_With being alive._

Dimitri knew what she meant, but it was easier said than done. Especially now, seeing this side of her again…

Winning wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

He covered her hand with his, gripping as gently as he was able. Then his gaze wandered down over her mouth, her neck, and he winced.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, El. I shouldn’t have－what I did－”

Her free hand covered his mouth. “Don’t you dare. Don’t insult me by acting like you did anything without my consent.” Her eyes bore into him. “And don’t ruin it by telling me you regret it.”

Slowly, her hand fell away. Dimitri didn’t object. He didn’t say anything, instead studying her face－committing it to memory, desperate to remember this rare moment of vulnerability on her part.

When he kissed her this time, it was careful, tender. He paused when she didn’t immediately reciprocate, but her palm cupping his cheek was likewise gentle, and then she kissed him with the same slow, almost shy pace.

It sent a different sort of chill down his spine compared to their previous kisses: this was warm and content rather than overheated and eager. It reminded him of crisp mornings and shared laughs and her hand in his as she tugged him after her across the castle lawn.

He slipped a hand into her soft hair, breathing her name again and again－a desire, a question－and he inhaled sharply when her arms wound around his middle in a loose embrace. Somehow that small gesture felt so much more intimate than anything else they had done.

Dimitri pulled away, but only to bury his face against her shoulder as he hugged her in return. She massaged the middle of his back in small, comforting motions, and for an instant he could believe that they weren’t both worn and hardened by their long paths of tragedy and sacrifices.

And then he drew back to find her skin still bruised, her hair still that unnatural white.

“El.” He cupped her elbows in his hands, rubbing light circles into her arms. He wasn’t sure how to put it more eloquently, so he simply said, “If you’ll permit me… I would like to try this again.”

Her face was so stoic and unreadable that for a moment he was sure he’d offended her. “So you do regret it, then?”

“No. I just… want to give you something better.”

Edelgard’s gaze fell away to watch her fingers trace some of the scars on his chest. “You’re aware of how that may come off, correct? If we stop now, you simply acted on impulse before.”

She was giving him a way out, he realized. An easy excuse to walk away and pretend tonight never happened.

“El,” he repeated, leaning down to catch her eye, “I’m done denying what I feel. Reject me if you wish－I will not blame you－but I won’t pretend you mean so little to me. I’ve always loved you, whether or not you－”

Her mouth on his silenced him.

The look in her eyes answered him.

She set the pace this time and he gladly followed. He lay back when she nudged him, admiring her as she climbed atop him once more. He paid attention to her reactions as he touched her, favoring what she clearly preferred. He teased the edges of her tattered dress, but didn’t remove it until she finally guided his hands to what remained of her collar.

“Tear it,” she murmured, and while she flushed as he did so－and he did so carefully－she also averted her eyes for the first time since beginning, missing his startled expression when he saw the bare skin of her torso.

Dimitri was used to scars. He carried dozens of them, and would have expected her to have at least a few from her days of battle.

Edelgard was covered in them. They were long and thin. Precise. Symmetrical. The largest trailed from her breastbone to her navel, the smallest along the inside of her wrists. He knew surgical scars when he saw them, but there were so _many._

He could also tell they were very old, but that only made them even more disconcerting.

Despite how roughly he’d handled her before, he suddenly felt uncertain, even afraid of touching her as he took in her patchwork of scars. Even if he couldn’t hurt her, he felt as though his rough and clumsy touch might reopen whatever horrible memories those marks had healed over.

He was stunned, rattled, but most of all he was furious.

_Who?_

Who had done this to her?

Dimitri wasn’t a religious man but he found himself praying in earnest right then, praying that the filth responsible still lived so that he might tear them apart limb by limb－

The touch of her palm against his cheek doused his rage instantly.

“Don’t stare,” she chastised gently. She still couldn’t quite meet his eye as she said it and he recognized her self-consciousness for what it was, out of character though it was on her.

At that, his attention wandered to the rest of her: her sharp collarbones, her bare breasts, how small her shoulders looked when uncovered. She did have a few natural scars, the biggest of which matched the wound he’d given her at Gronder, a deep slash above her right hip.

_“Dimitri,”_ she chided.

He reached up and grazed his fingers across the subtle muscles in her stomach. “I’m only staring because you’re lovely.”

She actually flushed at that, and then scowled halfheartedly to try and save face. “It’s still rude,” she protested, and then gave a soft cry of surprise when Dimitri suddenly rolled them over.

“I won’t use my eyes, then,” he breathed against her ear, making her shiver. He kissed his way down her throat, her chest, her stomach, guided only by touch and the light nudge of her hands this way and that. She liked when he nipped playfully at her hip, when he sucked the tips of her breasts, and he indulged her wholeheartedly.

Only when she ordered _Pants off_ did he finally relent.

She told him to move slowly for that first thrust, to let her adjust to the feel of him inside her before moving again. She told him how fast to go, how hard, what rhythm she liked. She admitted it felt better if he angled himself a certain way. She showed him where his hands were best put to use.

She taught him how to please her. He learned quickly.

They went slowly, patiently, as though they’d been given all the time they had lost and then some.

They both found release this time－Edelgard first, and then Dimitri shortly after when he saw how breathtaking she looked in her moment of ecstasy, how vulnerable and open. She was still moaning his name when he lay down beside her, flush against with his mouth in her hair and one hand massaging her hip.

For a while they simply rested, each in their own thoughts as their skins cooled and their heartbeats slowed. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, it was harder to ignore the somber truth of their situation.

Namely, that it couldn’t last.

The thought made Dimitri pull her closer and hide his face against her hair.

After a while longer, Edelgard was the first to speak.

“You should leave soon. I’m surprised the guards haven’t checked on you already.” She was right, of course, but he was tempted to push his luck, anyway. As if detecting his thoughts, she pointed out, “There are doubtlessly some rumors already. Don’t add fuel to the fire, Dimitri.”

_Rumors be damned,_ he thought. People could speculate and gossip all they wanted. “I know. But I’d like to stay just a little longer, if that’s alright.” At her sidelong glance, he added quickly, “Just to stay. That’s all.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Oh? That’s a shame.”

“El?”

She turned towards him, tangling her legs with his. “I didn’t think you’d tire before I did.”

Dimitri _was_ exhausted, but that tempting brush of her skin and the cocky note in her voice were already helping him to forget it. “You’re made of sterner stuff than I, clearly.” Taking her hand in his, he kissed her knuckles slowly, holding her gaze. “But I am not _too_ tired, no.”


End file.
